


Children & Cocaine

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a dream about having children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children & Cocaine

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a bit of a fill for [ this prompt ](http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/9516.html?thread=22208812#t22208812) at the [SHKinkMeme](http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com).

Oh everything seemed to be going in and out, Holmes realized as he stared at the tiger skin rug. It was all just sort of flittering back and forth. Or perhaps swaying was the more appropriate word. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he cocked his head to the side, staring at his reflection until he realized that it was less the room that seemed to be swaying and more him. Blinking rapidly, he knew he most definitely had to do something about it quickly.

Moving to find Watson or even Mrs. Hudson, though, he instead found himself collapsing into the chair that he assumed had been keeping him steady, figuring that it would be best if he let the cocaine wear off a bit before finding out if and how someone had drugged him. Closing his eyes, he was most certain that it was nothing if not a solid plan.

Taking a few deep breaths, he relaxed into the chair, letting time slip by him slowly. Recalling all the details of the room piece by piece, he did his best to keep his breathing even, not letting anything disturb him. Not even the hand that was suddenly on his leg.

Opening his eyes, he reared back slightly as he stared at the boy in front of him in utter confusion.

“He’s doing it again,” the boy stated, all stern looks that seemed rather unnatural on such a child. He couldn’t have been all that old, twelve or thirteen, judging by the uniform he wore.

Blinking furiously, Holmes frowned. “He’s doing what?”

“I’m doing nothing,” called out a far younger voice.

Stunned when another boy’s head appeared in the door way, Holmes wondered if perhaps Watson had let them in. They certainly weren’t the Irregulars. Perhaps they were in need of assistance; though he could only wonder what kind of trouble two obviously well cared for lads could get up to. Well, assuming they were nothing like him as a boy.

“No! You’re not doing anything,” the older one corrected.

Smiling triumphantly, the small blonde nodded his agreement, near angelic curls falling in front of his face as he did. “Exactly. Now leave dad alone.”

“Benedict!” Huffing angrily the older boy turned back to him, eyes pleading that he do something that Holmes couldn’t quite place. “Dad, he’s doing it again. You have to make him stop.”

“Doing what?” Holmes questioned, deciding that it would best not to question why the boys though he was their father.

“He’s toying with the dog.”

“I am not! I’m trying to test an experiment on the dog.”

“See?” The still nameless boy said, as though that proved everything.

But Benedict finally made his way into the room, all seriousness as he sighed and stared down what Holmes could only assume was his brother. “No. You said I was ‘doing’ it. Trying implies that I am attempting to do something I have not yet accomplished, hence the difference in words and definition.”

“You’re still toying with Gladstone after father told you no. Even dad agreed that it was best you just leave him alone.”

“After father made him, which rather makes the entire point moot, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No!”

“Stop it!” Holmes cried out, mildly bothered by the circumstances he seemed to find himself in.

Rising to his feet, he picked up Benedict and placed him in his chair. The boy merely stared at him in confusion, as though it was a critical affront to be placed there.

“Why am I in trouble? Why not Martin? He was equally guilty for telling on me and starting this.”

“Benedict, dad’s not going to blame me for preventing you from harming the dog.”

“I was trying to see if I had made blue that didn’t make you sick.”

Picking up Martin, Holmes put him down in the seat nearest his desk before going to lean against the wall. Of course, that was until he thought of what had been happening in the other room and decided that it was best he saw to it nothing had happened.

Peering in, he saw Gladstone tumble out of the small tub of water, shaking it off as he did. The dog stared at him with tired brown eyes that seemed strange with his nearly turquoise fur. Sighing, he decided that if the dog wasn’t sick, all was well. Even if they were stuck with an oddly coloured dog for the time being.

Going back into the room, he scowled at Martin, who was in front of his brother, searching the boy’s pockets for something that only they knew of.

“You’re supposed to be in that chair,” Holmes warned his apparent son.

“Yes, but I need Martin to take this,” Benedict said as Martin took a watch from his pocket and went back to his own seat.

Deciding to let it go, he sighed and chose to truly inspect them for some sort of clue as to whether or not they could really be his. Certainly they didn’t bear much resemblance to each other, but the same had been said about him and Mycroft.

Certainly who ever the other person was had to be a blonde of some sort judging by Benedict’s hair, as even if his did seem to hold a wavier quality, much like his own, Sherlock knew he’d never been a blonde in his life. He’d been a brunette like Martin, though his hair was never so straight.

And of course the woman had to have blue eyes because both of the boys did. Although, Martin’s were flecked with bits of brown and far darker than Benedict’s. No, the younger boy had eyes more like that of Watson and Mary. Perhaps that was where they came from, not that it made much sense that he would have children with Mary, but neither did the sudden appearance of children.

And with thoughts such as those in mind, it did seem to work better. Though, if that was the case, Benedict didn’t match up nearly as well. Furrowing his brows as he stared at the patient boy looking back at him, Holmes exhaled softly. His mouth was wrong, along with his cheeks.

“If you tell me the question, I can give you the answer,” Benedict said confidently, as though he knew exactly what Holmes was thinking of.

Glancing over at Martin, who seemed a bit lost by the statement, Holmes shook his head. The older one didn’t seem to have a clue as to what was going on. He’d been far too busy palm his little brother’s watch and mulling sullenly over how to escape the menial punishment.

“Holmes, I… What have you done?” Watson asked the moment he walked in the door.

Opening his mouth to speak, he found himself beat by Martin.

“Benedict was trying to dye Gladstone blue. Again.”

“What have I told you about experimenting on the dog? You’re as bad as your dad,” Watson groaned miserably.

Somehow, it seemed to be just the thing to say, since Benedict didn’t argue. Instead, he merely sat in his chair, kicking his tiny legs back and forth as he looked appropriately chastised. “I nearly made blue,” he muttered softly.

Catching Watson’s eye roll, Sherlock knew he had to defend the boy. Going over to his old friend, he smiled. “He did. Turquoise would be the colour he managed. Bit too much green to be blue.”

“You approved of this?” Watson questioned in a defeated sort of tone.

Looking at the blonde, who was staring at him with nearly hopeful eyes and then at Martin, who seemed almost resigned to the fact that it was best Benedict didn’t get in trouble just this once, Sherlock nodded.

“It wasn’t nearly as fatal as my experiments can occasionally be.”

“I would never kill Gladstone!” Benedict exclaimed passionately.

Sighing, Watson’s mouth twitched into a smile he clearly didn’t want to give into as he nodded. “If he’s not hurt, I suppose we can let it slide this once only.”

“Thank you. After all, it wouldn’t do to diminish such an admirable curiosity in the boy, would it?”

“You’re nothing more than a pushover,” Watson said fondly before kissing him.

Caught off guard, Holmes tensed at the gesture. Certainly he wasn’t opposed to such actions from Watson in theory; as that’s what they were all but reduced to since the man spent most of his time devoting himself to his wife, but there were children present.

“I told you dad’s agreement with father was nothing more than a formality,” Benedict’s voice said, as though one of the people he was referring to wasn’t right in front of him.

Of course, for such a bright boy to mix up something as simple as parental titles didn’t either, unless, perhaps, one of them wasn’t really his. It seemed logical, he decided as he quickly turned his head to look at the duo. Benedict staring at him with a certain smugness while he stood next to Martin, who had the graces to stay put when told.

Feeling as though the revelation was staring him in the eyes, Holmes tilted his head as he regarded the boys.

“I don’t recall you being told you could move,” Watson told the blonde, giving him that stern look that never really worked on Sherlock himself.

“Technically I was never told to stay there. I was put there by dad.”

“Can we go outside?” Martin asked, obviously the run between the boy and the rest of the world.

When nothing was said for some time, Holmes looked over at Watson, who was staring him down with a questioning gaze. Apparently he was the one who was meant to answer since he happened to be the one to put them through the makeshift punishment. Shrugging, he went over to his own seat, since it was no longer occupied by the little boy.

“Fine. But don’t go far and I don’t want to hear from Lestrade that you’ve gotten yourselves into trouble again,” Watson said, sounding particularly stern as he focused mostly on Benedict.

Nodding the boy grabbed the scarf off the desk and put it on with an amusing flourish before hugging Holmes’ leg. “I despise you immensely.”

Smirking, Holmes patted the boy’s head as he nodded. “The feeling is returned two-fold,” he said, noticing the way both Martin and Watson shook their heads.

“I happen to love you, dad,” Martin said as he merely nodded from where he stood.

It was sitting there, watching Martin and Watson as Benedict rushed over to hug the other man did it hit him. Stunned, he stared in shock as he watched the boy repeated the process with Watson, who kneeled down to Benedict as he hugged him tightly. Seeing him pull Martin into the hug, Holmes felt something he couldn’t quite place as he did his best to commit the scene to memory.

“You boys be safe,” Watson said softly as he unwillingly let them pull away.

“I’m nothing if not careful,” Benedict said before rushing off.

Martin shared an exasperated smile with his father as he said, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

It was all Watson needed to hear apparently because with that said, they both stayed right where they were watching the two boys rush off. Looking over at the man, Holmes swallowed thickly when he saw took note of the love and affection suddenly directed at him.

Getting to his feet, Watson smiled as he made his way over to Holmes. “We have a case. Lady Chamberlain’s family jewels have been reported missing.”

Watson reached into his pocket to undoubtedly give Holmes the request for his services. When he pulled out nothing, Holmes couldn’t resist laughing at the utterly perplexed look on the other’s face.

“Benedict took it when you pulled Martin into the hug.”

“Holmes!”

“Let them have their fun. I’m certain they’ll solve it just as well as we would’ve.”

Watson just glared at him. “You may think it’s amusing for them to go around like we do, but I’d rather they not find themselves in any sort of danger,” he said in a huff before rushing to hopefully catch up to the boys.

Closing his eyes, Holmes shook his head. He really didn’t see the harm, not when he was almost certain of the conclusion given the description that Watson had given and what he knew of the Lady. Smiling, he decided he would simply rest until Watson came back.

Thankfully it wasn’t particularly long before Watson was calling out to him as he tried to shake him awake. Grumbling about unnecessary show of force used in waking a man, he slowly opened his eyes to stare into Watson’s anxious blues.

“Did you get the letter from them?” Holmes questioned with an amused grin.

“What are you talking about?”

“You went after the boys to get a letter.”

“What boys?” Watson asked, suddenly seeming very concerned.

Wiping at his mouth, Holmes looked around the room to find it in the exact same condition it had been in when he had fell asleep. “It must’ve been a dream.”

“Of boys?” Watson questioned.

Rolling his eyes as he stretched in his chair, Sherlock merely nodded in agreement. “Quite, but they were our boys, somehow. Benedict and Martin, the former being the younger. Rather like us, I suppose. Never the less, I take it you are here for a reason?”

“Yes, your services have been requested and what do you mean our boys?”

Holmes held out his hand for the letter as he said, “I don’t know how it happened, it was a dream after all, but we had two sons. Just you and I. Martin was just like you, while Benedict was a bit more like me. Nearly identical, save for the personality and hair. Were you blonde as a child?”

“Yes, but—“

“That explains it. Benedict was too. Martin wasn’t though. Serious one he was. Positively lovely boy though. You’d have been proud of him, if he existed that is. Are you going to give me the letter?”

“No. I mean—“ Taking a deep breath, Watson took the seat next to him and handed the letter over. “We had sons? The two of us?”

“Quite. In fact, even in the dream you had a case for me. Not nearly as interesting as this. Benedict took it from you while you hugged him, though. Was off to solve it with Martin. We must be off,” he said as he rose to his feet. Grabbing his hat, he put it on and smirked at his friend. “Coming?”

“What else can you tell me about them? I mean… Certainly there must have been more to it than that.”

“Watson, there’s a very important matter I feel we should be attending to.”

“I just want to know about this dream and those… boys,” Watson muttered as he rose to his feet.

Walking over to his friend, he cupped the man’s cheeks and kissed him the same way he’d been kissed in his dream. Except for where he had tensed, Watson merely kissed back, wasting little time before there was a swipe of tongue against his lips.

With a smirk, Holmes broke the kiss and merely rested his forehead against Watson’s. “You loved them derely and they loved you. I loved you. Still do, though that’s partially because I have the benefit of actually existing.”

“I expect you to tell me everything after this case.”

“But of course. Oh, and Benedict dyed Gladstone turquoise. Amusing sight a turquoise dog,” Holmes said as he started to leave.

Sighing, Watson shook his head as he followed. “Even in your dreams you still manage to torment my dog.”

“Our dog,” Holmes corrected. “Gladstone is our dog.”


End file.
